


In The Palm of Your Hand

by Purim



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Also short, F/M, It Gets Better, Light Angst, but cute?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purim/pseuds/Purim
Summary: Chloe reflects on her hands and how they, and those of her best friend, have changed over time. Takes place after/during JN52.
Relationships: Gou | Goh & Koharu | Chloe, Gou | Goh/Koharu | Chloe, Gou | Goh/Sakuragi Koharu | Chloe Cerise
Kudos: 13





	In The Palm of Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to my friend @rikirinka on Twitter for the idea.

I remember your hands from when we were younger. They were small, and pudgy, like mine, and they fit together perfectly. When we held onto snacks at home, or pencils at school, or toys when we were playing, we both had the same hands. When you were pulling me aside to see what cool thing you had just discovered, or dragged me through the brush because you’re sure you saw Mew this time, it always had the same familiar warmth that I had grown accustomed to.

We used to hold hands before. I don’t know if you remember that. It was only for a little while when we were small. When we were unafraid of what others would say or think of us. When just being friends was the most important thing in our world. But then I began to feel it. Your hand began to pull away from mine. I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go, and I was afraid to make a decision in walking away from the path I was already on, but you were confident. I was hesitant. And so, even though we were holding hands, I felt your fingers slip from my grasp, and I watched you go away from me.

That warmth was gone, and your absence made me cold. Not just my hand, but my heart as well. I began rejecting the things that we would have in common. I watched you drift away from me, locking yourself away in your room. Reading messages, apologizing for being late, or not seeing me entirely. I let my heart be hardened, willing myself to be angry, so that I wouldn’t cry.

I hated that. I hated Pokémon. I hated _you_.

I thought, if you didn’t want me to be in your world, then I would reject your entry in mine. But even my frostiest attempts couldn’t keep you out entirely. I would still greet you. I would still go out of my way to help you. I even brought you your homework, from the classes you never attended. But I did what I could to force you out if I could. I went to school to stay away from you. I studied hard, and became the top of my class, while you were running away with your new friend. You would mention all the amazing things you would see all over the world, so I closed my heart to them. I closed my heart to the world.

While we were finished helping Mr. Endo, I looked at your hands again when you took off your gloves. They had grown, much like mine. Long, slender fingers replaced your childish ones, but what surprised me is what else I saw. The cuts, the healing wounds, the scrapes on them. There were callouses that I didn’t recognize. The dirt caught under your fingernails from all the time you spent outside playing with your Pokémon was so unfamiliar, I didn’t realize what it was at first. From the distance where I watched you and Ash argue over the food and who would clean up the plates and do the dishes, they looked so different than mine. They looked rough, and hard. Working hands. A grown man’s hands.

I looked at my own. They had grown as well, and they were slender and pretty. But my fingernails were manicured. My hands were still soft, with no rougher work than petting Yamper and Eevee, or holding a pen. I had no blemishes on my skin, no wear and tear. The gloves we all wore working in the field felt tough against them, and uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to the sensation of wearing rough things like that on my hands.

So I opted to wash the dishes for you both instead.

And while I did, I thought about how different things were becoming for us.

The more you became involved with Pokémon, the more you continued chasing your dream to catch Mew, the more your hands would change. The more they would become scratched and calloused. And the more I stayed in academia, the softer they would seem in comparison. I felt like a child who had just learned that they were going to watch their child grow up without them.

I thought of our drifting paths. When would you stop caring about telling me you were staying inside, or being late? When would I get my last ‘Good Morning, Chloe”? When would I stop getting messages because you no longer cared about me, a relic of your past? Should I stop following you on these journeys? Should I stop caring about _you?_

I felt small, and weak, and helpless. I felt lost. As lost as I ever was, or would be.

I dried my hands on the towel as you approached.

“Chloe, c’mon! Eevee’s doing this really cute thing! You’ve just GOT to see it!”

“Goh-I-!“

And you took your hand into mine, and I felt how rough they had become. But despite my fears and misgivings, they didn’t hurt like I imagined they would. Your hand felt secure. Safe. I could feel the cracks and callouses, but it wasn’t something that was pulling you away from me. Instead, they felt like places I could hold onto you, footholds in the palm of your hand where I could find myself. They felt strong, like they could guide me through the fears and uncertainty that clouded my heart.

But more than anything, they were warm. They were so warm. And I felt that warmth radiate and echo through our shared history, connecting this moment from when yours held mine all the way back to the first moments we shook hands when we were small. Those small, pudgy hands of ours had grown, and though mine were small, smooth, soft, and dainty, and yours were large, rough, hard, and strong, the feeling that rose in my heart and on my cheeks told me that these were still my best friend’s hands and that I would be safe whenever they were holding onto me.

So when you took me into the den where Eevee was rolling Mr. Endo’s Voltorb around the floor, I smiled and laughed. And yes, there were tears in my eyes that I wiped away with my free hand. And when you looked at me and wondered out loud if I was alright and I told you that I was, I was telling the truth. Because the feeling in your hands told me that I would never be alone as long as I held onto them.

And I promise you, Goh. I never want to let go of your hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I know it's short, but I hope you enjoyed it. I will be posting more, soon.


End file.
